I Still Remember You
by Austin Blake
Summary: When a resurrected Buffy finds that everything has only gotten worse, she realizes the afterlife was better. Willow's magik grants her a chance at true happiness...and we all know what (or who) that means.


DISCLAIMER: It's all mine. Unless it isn't.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: New season (6) of Buffy. Maybe spoilers, too lazy to check. Give me a cookie, you'll get more effort. Give me a slice of pie, and I'm yours forever.  
  
  
  
  
I STILL REMEMBER YOU  
  
Willow Rosenberg gave a few soft knocks on the door to the Summers' residence, wondering why she had been summoned. She was under the impression everything was going fine until the call. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a very distraught Dawn, concern etched into her tear-streaked face. "Hi, Willow"  
  
"Dawnie! What's wrong?"  
  
"It's Buffy. She was supposed to go out patrolling tonight, as usual. But as soon as she got to the door, she collapsed and just started crying. I don't know what's wrong...she won't stop. She can barely talk. I didn't know who else to call."  
  
Willow took her swiftly into her arms, hugging her tightly. "Shh. It's all right. Take me to her."  
  
Dawn nodded, turning to lead the red-headed Wiccan into the house. Her step was slowed as she made her way up the stairs by the sound of her sister's soft weeping. Dawn opened the door to Buffy's room cautiously, the sorrowful whimpering the only hint that Buffy was somewhere inside the darkness. Willow turned on the light and walked to her bed, Dawn staying behind in the doorway for a few moments before leaving them to their discussion.  
  
As Willow's eyes fell upon Buffy, all she saw was pain. She'd never seen Buffy in what seemed to be so much excruciating agony in all her life, not even when she'd been resurrected but two weeks ago. Her blonde tresses were dampened by her tears, as was her pillow, her hazel eyes showing nothing but sadness. Willow's hand held Buffy's tenderly as she spoke quietly.  
  
"Buffy...what is it?"  
  
"Everything, Will. I sacrifice myself to save the world, and nothing changes. They're still out there, watching, waiting for another chance to murder me. How many times do I have to die before I get peace?"  
  
"We all feel the strain, Buffy. It's not just you-"  
  
"It IS just me," Buffy interrupted, "I was...I was happier dead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The afterlife...it was beautiful...everyone was happy, cheerful, no evil even existed. You had Tara, Xander had Anya, even Oz seemed to have joy in his heart. Everything was bright. Darkness wasn't even a factor. And I got to be with you all."  
  
Willow sat speechless, her eyes lowering to the carpet. "I don't know how to make it better, Buffy."  
  
"You can't. That's just it. You can't."  
  
Willow's eyes gradually rose back to that of her friend's. She sighed softly, tightening the grip on Buffy's hand. "There...might be a way..."  
  
"No, Will. There isn't."  
  
"There's a spell...it's kind of dangerous, but simple to do. It gives the person whatever his or her heart desires. But, due to the all around badness of the world, it's only temporary. It could help you...you know...overcome."  
  
Buffy sat up slowly, leaning on her friend's shoulder, wiping her stinging eyes with the back of her hand. They sat in silence, until Buffy spoke softly.  
  
"What do I have to do...?"  
  
"Just recite five words three times. Simple, I know. But chances are, when the spell runs it's course, all we be corrected afterwards, just in case any naughtyness ensues."  
  
"What are the words?"  
  
"Serie...bollu, tiene...vientro......ris."  
  
Buffy sniffled, "How long will it last?"  
  
"I don't know. But I hope that you get your happiness, even if it is brief."  
  
"Thank you, Wills."  
  
"You want me to be here when you...?"  
  
"If you don't mind. I don't want something to go wrong and I end up turning purple or releasing an evil pie-eating demon."  
  
"Understandable concern. Just concentrate on your purest desire, that which would make you happiest."  
  
Willow slipped her arm around Buffy's shoulder, trying to comfort her as she attempted the ritual. She said the words slowly, still unsure if they'd have the desired effect.  
  
"Serie...bollu...tiene..."  
  
"Vientro."  
  
"...vientro...ris. Serie bollu tiene...vientro ris. Serie bollu tiene vientro..."  
  
Buffy looked at Willow worriedly. Her gaze was met with an assuring half-smile. "Go ahead..."  
  
"Ris."  
  
She held her breath. Silence filled the room. All was quiet until...  
  
"ACHOO!"  
  
Buffy raised her eyebrow at Willow's hunched over form. "That was it? Not feeling overjoyed here, Will."  
  
Willow smiled sheepishly. "Dust, sorry."  
  
They were interrupted by a knock at Buffy's door. They turned their heads to see Dawn, her face still stained with tears, but with one difference. She was smiling.  
  
"Buffy," Dawn said, the smile not fading, "Someone's here to see you. They're downstairs." With that, Dawn made her way back down the stairs, pretending not to hear Buffy ask, "Who is it?"  
  
Buffy stood, walking out of her room, stepping lightly down the stairs, curious as to who would visit this time of night. If it was Spike, she'd have to stake him. He probably heard about her breakdown and was overflowing the living room with flowers...  
  
She was jolted from these thoughts as she saw the person who'd come to to see her. A tall man with a long black duster clinging tightly to his broad form, the rest of his ensemble as black as the twilight as well. Form-fitting jeans and a silk shirt accented the steep curvature of his well-developed muscles, a hint of his chiseled, stone-defined chest revealed teasingly through the top two unfastened buttons of his silken garment.  
  
His illuminescent yet dark eyes, flecked with silver as if to signify all the tears the sadness of his tortured soul had caused, shone with unadulterated joy as they fell upon Buffy. His angelic features seemed so youthful now...far from his usual granite composure. He lifted a steady alabaster hand, running it through his slightly unkempt yet still neatly gelled coal-black locks, standing perfectly still in the doorway, a slight smile deciding to grace that handsome visage of his, telling her so much without words.  
  
"Angel..."  
  
-----  
  
Buffy awoke to the feeling of dampness on her forehead. As her eyes fluttered open, they fell upon Willow, who was kneeling beside the couch - where she was lying. "Finally."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You, well, fainted."  
  
"I fainted? I as in me? Buffy, the Superslayer Extraordinaire?"  
  
"That would be you. Known for your excellent slaying skills, but apparently you're superb in the fainting department."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened, her body sitting up quickly, the moist washcloth on her forehead toppling to her lap. "Angel...is he...?"  
  
"He's still here. Fixing breakfast for Dawn."  
  
"Good. That's a good thing, right?  
  
"Very much with the good. Bursting with Angel-y goodness. Listen, there's something you need to know."  
  
"I know about the curse, Will. I promise I won't ravage him anytime soon, okay?"  
  
"You sure you want to make that promise?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"See for yourself."  
  
Willow got to her feet, allowing Buffy to stand as well. Together, they took quiet steps to the kitchen, watching a shirtless Angel hovering over a stove preparing Eggs Benedict, the tattoo of the winged lion and the letter A easily seen on the sharp curve of his right shoulder blade, a towel slung over the other. Buffy couldn't help but smile at the sheer perfection of his marble-like body, one worthy enough to have been sculpted at the hands of Michaelangelo himself, if Michaelangelo could have perceived such a divine form in his limited mortal comprehension.  
  
"He spent the night...in your bed. He said he needed to smell your scent again, and since you waking up to him sniffing you like crazy would have been a little weird, that was the next best thing."  
  
Buffy watched Angel with almost childlike anticipation, oblivious to what Willow was saying. Angel had turned, serving the steaming gourmet meal from the pan to Dawn's plate, much to the delight of the young lady he was serving, who found this better than toast and microwave pancakes. Buffy's pupils dialated as they fell upon the firm structure that was his chest, bountiful curves outlining a set of the finest abs she'd ever seen. God, he was gorgeous. She found her mind wandering, remembering what it felt like to have that chest pressed against hers, her body writhing beneath his in ecstacy as he...  
  
For the second time since his arrival, she was jarred from her train of thought. What seemed like the simplest of actions - Angel placing the pan and a few plates in the sink - told her so very much, and she found herself with the need to rejoice more than she ever had. For in doing that, Angel's entire chest and face were exposed to the sunlight. And he just basked in it's warmth.  
  
"He's human, Buffy."  
  
"I...I gathered that. How...?"  
  
"Your wish. Your deepest desire must have been him. Just him. Human."  
  
Buffy was speechless, her lips parting softly without sound. She crept up behind him, knowing that this was a dream, a torturous one that would be shattered as she awoke. She extended her hand to touch his back as he was cleaning the dishes, all the common sense she had telling her that this wasn't real, that he wasn't real, and she was still dead, and in Hell, these dreams only serving to heighten her agony.  
  
Funny how love goes beyond common sense.  
  
Her fingertips weren't met with cold, weren't met with air, weren't met with some phantom. Just firm, warm flesh. And it was Angel's. Something in her told her that it was familiar, but she knew it to be impossible. But it felt right. She placed her hand over his tattoo, her palm drawing in warmth from him. And damned if she didn't feel his heartbeat surging through his veins. Tears fell softly from those pools of hazel, and if almost on instinct, Angel turned around to her, his hand placed upon her cheek gently. His thumb wiped away her tears, his skin caressing hers tenderly, the meeting place of their warmth tingling on Buffy's face.  
  
No words needed to be spoken. If they did, Buffy found it was quite hard to speak with his lips pressed against hers. Warm. His tongue pushed it's way into her mouth with little resistance, gently massaging her own. Warm. He drew her tongue into his mouth, suckling on it lightly as his arms fell about her waist, taut muscle drawing her tightly against his body. Very warm. It was at this moment Buffy decided that this - this warmth, this embrace - was way better than talking.  
  
She felt her body's natural reaction start, the tingling that had been on her cheek beginning much more intensely between her thighs. And he was all to blame. It took everything she had not to push him back on the table and take him into her right there on the kitchen table. If you think that meant her lips left his, you're wrong. He could barely make it up the stairs, Buffy's arms around his neck, her body clinging to his. She leapt into his arms, her legs entwining about his waist. He hefted her up the stairs, needing no more such subtle hints.  
  
He kicked the door of her room open, his bare foot reaching back to close it. As soon as the click was heard, he had her on the bed, her hands working frenziedly to pull his pants down. The drawstring snapped, signaling her success, the fabric falling to the ground. He positioned his naked body above her, kissing her neck gently as he unbuttoned her blouse. As her upper body became exposed to him, his lips returned to her neck, hands trailing down her soft skin to cup a breast, massaging it as he suckled her nipple gently. He kissed his way tenderly down her stomach agonizingly slow, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down to her ankles, placing a soft kiss upon her folds through the already damp thin fabric of her panties. He slowly slid her panties down, his tongue pushing its way inside of her, thick and warm as it explored her body, his mouth enveloping her clit and sucking hungrily.  
  
Scream? It cut through the insipid swirling air like knife through butter. His tongue delving into her, Buffy's questing fingers sought and found a perch in his hair, the fine strands being wrapped tightly, forcing a yank or two as her back bowed from his assault. A fever broke out across nerves, scintillatingly racing to gather in the pit where he worked such magic. Cry? It was thrust out between parched tiers, "Angel...I want you...Now!" It wasn't begging he heard, it was the verbal command of a woman provoked to heights. Snaking arms wound around him, and claws yanked strands of hair, tugging him upwards. But he refused, content on staying where he was, physically worshipping her.  
  
He lashed out furiously at her cunt with his tongue, her tight pink folds stretching to fit the thrashing tongue within them, the oral stimulation on her clit increasing as he sucked harder on it, the bundle of nerves spasming in his mouth, jumping erratically under his attentions. He slid two fingers inside of her all at once, widening her small slit almost painfully as he twisted and pumped them deep into her, his tongue flicking within her quickly, the pressure on her clit increasing as he sucked harder still. Her juices trickled out of her as he backed off a bit, holding her thighs down as her back arched in orgasm. He gave a few light kisses on her clit, reaching up and kissing her lips gently. He stood quickly, an erect tower unfurled, it's length one to be admired. His new human body having made love very few times, his length was free to grow as it would...and in this new living form it had acquired great girth, a width not easily matched. He nodded, his hands gliding upwards to massage those full luscious mounds protruding from her chest, his length pushing into her slowly, folds parting, then beginning to stretch from just the tip, her cavity widening as he slid into her, slick with her love.  
  
Invaded! Her body pierced agony, yet it deadened into sweet oblivion. Golden-tressed head fell back, body gathering greedily to his. She purred loudly now, his name a chant of retribution, as she surged against him in rhythm. Motion set, eyes dilated to a pure, emerald fire. Her nails drew blood, scraping in denial. Undulation of hips took her to a faster pace, panting breaths requesting more from him, thunder rolled outside in match of what he did to her. The wind picked up a howling music, earthly desire homed in and declared them finally victorious in their fight for their love. "Oh God...Angel...!"  
  
He pushed hard into her, unrelenting as he buried his entire length within her all at once, the tight pink sheath around him gripping, clenching, constricting...he filled her to capacity, yet still she had to be stretched wider, his length bottoming out against her cervix. He drove into her again, harder, thrusting deeper and faster as if trying to burrow to her heart, her body jolted hard by the force. He plunged his length into her harder, driving as if attempting to nail her to the ceiling, her folds swelling as her clit throbbed against him with each push, every thrust bringing her closer and closer to the edge as he delved into her, rupturing any and all proof of her innocence. His body, gleaming with sweat, united with hers in passion, lust, longing...love. He felt her canal narrow, clinching around him, her clit vibrated by the tug and pull of him inside her. His thrusts began growing faster, harder, rougher...wanting her to experience pure joy...the final result of their love. He wanted to please her, and would not let up until he did, no matter what he tore inside of her. He rocked her back and forth on him as he drove upwards still, awaiting her loss of control.  
  
Delirious, she near swooned in the rapture he forced on her. Her body, her mind, her soul basked in this, this dark and sublime pleasure. Wrapped tighter than a bow string, thrusting hips striving to hit that peak, carried away. She leaned down as muscles wrenched tightly, the tingles throbbing to the motion he worked. She called out roughly, "More, Angel...More!"  
  
  
He pounded upwards still, stretching her to her maximum. But he didn't wish she wasn't so tiny. It was perfection, the way she tightly clung to him. He wrought himself upwards, long full strokes, but making sure his length rammed her womanhood for all it was worth, triggering that cataclysmic vibration that racked her body, sending sharp pangs of exotic pleasure through her spine, her swollen folds on fire as he pushed within her still, the right mix of pain and pleasure to send her toppling over any barriers that held her. He pounded into her slit for all he was worth, merciless against her still swelling cunt, which was rapidly becoming unable to take much more. He tore in and out of her, feeling her around him. He became lost in the sensations, releasing forcefully into her, stream after stream of his seed buried in her womb.  
  
She did more than just topple. He taught her the value of aiming high. "ANGEL!!!" The racking shudder traced curves, running down every nerve to congeal in the apex of her thighs. Her rip tightened immensely upon him. His body slowed to a halt above her, soft kisses placed upon her lips as silent declarations of love, his length still sheathed within her.  
  
Buffy could barely breathe, suffering the after effects of their rampaging lovemaking. "That...was..."  
  
"Incredible." Angel finished for her, lying her head on his chest as they fell asleep in each other's arms, their exerted bodies positively radiant.  
  
-----  
  
Willow and Dawn watched them slumber from the doorway, a much more solemn air about them. Dawn looked up at Willow, almost pleadingly. "Do we have to tell them? They seem so peaceful."  
  
Willow glanced towards the couple, who hadn't left the bed save to shower, only to return to their sanctuary, never leaving each other's side. "Yes...they do."  
  
She walked in silently, shaking Angel gently as Dawn did the same to Buffy, rousing them from their post-coital rest. Buffy rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Angel stirring beside her, questioning looks in both their eyes. "We," Dawn said, "have something to tell you."  
  
"It's about the spell," Willow said, her eyes lowering once more to the carpet, "It...it only lasts twenty-four hours."  
  
Buffy's eyes grew wide awake, her head turning. "H-How much time do we have left...?"  
  
"Five minutes...give or take..." Willow looked up at them sorrowfully, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm so sorry...I didn't know it'd be so short."  
  
"Five minutes?!? That's not enough time! No! I won't-"  
  
Buffy was silenced by Angel's hand on her shoulder, tears misting his own eyes as he looked at her. "We...we don't have a choice, Buffy..." He looked over at Willow, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Will she...remember...?"  
  
Willow nodded slightly as Buffy turned to him. "Of course I'll remember. Why wouldn't I? Won't...won't you...?"  
  
"No, Buffy..." Willow took her friend's hand in her own, Dawn hugging her sister during what had to be one of the hardest moments of her life. "Time will be corrected...he...he won't remember. We will...but not him. I'm sorry."  
  
Buffy's own eyes flooded with tears, the saltiness burning into her skin. "But...I want him to...I need him to..."  
  
Angel held her in his arms, trying to comfort her. "Shh...I have my memories...now you'll have yours. Turnabout is fair play."  
  
"Wh-What do you mean...?"  
  
"I've been human before, Buffy...made love to you...wanted to stay with you like that...but I had to give it up to save you. The Powers took back the day, and only I remembered it. But now, you'll remember it too." He placed a soft kiss on her lips to quiet her, knowing they had but a minute left. "Never forget...my heartbeat. Never forget...me..."  
  
"I'll never forget...I'll never forget...I'll never forget..."  
  
-----  
  
Cordelia Chase was chatting rather loudly to Wesley about the newest fashions that'd look good on his stiff British behind when the phone rang. Gunn, who was adjusting bolts on a crossbow and schooling Fred on the finer aspects of demon hunting, didn't notice. Angel, being the only one currently alone, was half-brooding when he answered it.  
  
"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. Hello?"  
  
No response.  
  
"Hello...?"  
  
He was met with a click.  
  
Back in Sunnydale, Buffy Summers placed the phone back on the cradle, her face devoid of any emotion. A tear slid slowly down her cheek as she whispered the words, "I'll never forget..."  
  
----------  
THE END  
  
  
Feedback, please. 


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